Women are grand masters in the art of speaking hint. We have a great talent for refusing to say what is on our minds in favour of speaking in parables that rarely make sense to the listener. However, we believe we are pushing the listener to eventually come to the right conclusion on their own.

Men are fairly useless at hint, and although it is obvious that we reside on totally different wavelengths, it doesn’t stop us from trying to bridge the gap with hint. For instance, women like to fish for compliments in round about ways which fly completely over a man’s head. The end result is that the woman is sulking because you haven’t said her hair is pretty and the man is bewildered because he has no idea what he has done wrong.  As my friend Bob says, it is as effective as winking at someone in the dark.

I understand and occasionally speak hint, but there are times when I choose not to.  Last week I was on a bus and was not in the mood for company. So I paid to have my laptop occupy the seat next to mine. Hardly 5 minutes into the journey, the man sitting in the aisle seat next to mine began to comment loudly about how he was feeling unwell and it was so cold and rainy.  I decided he wasn’t speaking to me.

Then he went on to say how difficult it was to take a nap while seated in those folding aisle chairs in the middle of the bus. I focused on counting the trees whizzing by – in Mabira forest, that can be a very absorbing pastime. Seeing as the broader hints were flying over my head, the man switched to commenting about how luggage could become more important than human beings.

When I am not in a communicative mood, I put a pair of earphones on – even if they are not connected to any music source. That way I avoid conversation but can still hearing what is going on. I put my earphones in, closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable back biting to begin. I was not disappointed.

The man turned to the passenger on his other side and complained bitterly about how he would have liked to sit where my laptop was so he could be comfortable, but I had refused to understand his problem and be a human being.

Unfortunately for him, my travelling human instincts only kick in for old people, children and heavily pregnant women, so I refused to understand his hint. Laptop and I enjoyed each other’s company for the rest of a very comfortable trip. Perhaps if he had gone the direct route instead of whining, he might have had better luck.

Published on Sunday March 7, 2010